


Mr Loverman

by macabremusic



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: 2 AM Fics, Angst, Heavy Angst, I am so sorry, I have school tomorrow, M/M, based on a ricky montegomery song, or: mr loverman hits a little harder than it should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabremusic/pseuds/macabremusic
Summary: After his trials, Apollo decides to catch up on modern music and finds a song that hits a little too close to home.
Relationships: Apollo/Hyacinthus (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Mr Loverman

Apollo poured the red, intoxicating liquid into a plastic cup (one that normally would not be good enough for fine wine, but he was tired, and who was going to care what he was doing on a Saturday at 2 in the morning? No one.) He relished in the drafty breeze that came in through the curtains, smiling at the memory of accidentally shooting the window a few decades ago when he decided that maybe archery inside wasn't such a bad idea after all. Artemis had tried to warn him that he'd break something, but Hermes bet him thirty drachmas that he wouldn't be able to do it, and spite had always wriggled it's way into his decision making.

Olympus was different, ever since he came back. He didn't feel that same connection to the place, and certainly not the people in it. But that was life, he supposed, and he may as well try and pretend that everything was back to normal. He didn't feel anything towards the majority of the gods, nothing but a numb, bitter sort of disliking. Of course, there would always be the people he did like. His mother, for one. Hermes. Artemis. 

But his mother was away somewhere, she had been for months. And Hermes was an eternity away, in France or some other pretentious European country. Artemis was in Canada, following her hunters to catch some dangerous monster, only occasionally asking for his help with healing the young girls that were injured. 

And where was he? On an entirely separate plane of existence, in a bed he had missed for six months, that now felt awkward to lie down in. He supposed he should probably be out doing something, or rather someone, but he could not for the life of him shake the feeling that he would accidentally flicker to the form of one Lester Papadopoulos. It wasn't even an irrational fear, which was a sentiment that made him break out into laughter. 

He had been doing that accidentally pretty consistently, as soon as he was alone and to himself and had no pressing responsibilities. It had become somewhat familiar to him, and the only reason he hadn't assumed that body yet was because he had been meaning to catch up with the times for years now, and he did consider listening to music as one of the more enjoyable duties he had now that he was back to being an immortal, and it felt more right to slip into his normal form. 

He took out his phone, something that felt odd in his hands since he had gone so long without it. Scrolling through YouTube, wondering whether he should try the newest, most popular hits, or whether it would be best just to scroll endlessly until he saw a title that clicked with him. 

It wasn't long, maybe fifteen minutes of sighing and taking small sips of the wine threatening to spill out of his glass. He'd heard of the name popping up on the screen, something he guessed people would have once thanked him for. Ricky Montgomery's "Mr Loverman". All right. It sounded promising. Click play, set the cup on the bedside table, lean back, put your head on the pillow, let the phone's soft glow illuminate your face. 

_I'm heading straight for the floor, the alcohol served it's tour-_

Oh it's a sad one. That's fine. Not like he was contemplating lying on the floor, because the wine had gotten to his system or anything.

_And it's headed straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim-_

He contemplated shutting the phone off and rolling over, but thought he might as well keep watching the strange video with a man that had too many eyes to be healthy. 

_I've got this shake in my legs,_ _shaking the thoughts from my head,_ _but_ _who put these waves in the door?_ _I crack and out I pour;_ _I'm Mr. Loverman,_ _and I miss my lover, man._ _I'm Mr. Loverman._ _Oh, and I miss my lover-_

Geez. Did the universe **want** him to reminisce on his many failed relationships? The song continued, sad words about a potential breakup, and a sudden, strikingly clear memory popped into his head. Kind smiles, dark eyes that shone purple in the sunlight, and an infatuation so strong it made him dizzy to think about.

Him. Why him. 

The song could have reminded him of anyone else. Anyone else. 

Not him. 

No. No. He couldn't do this right now. He shouldn't still be tearing up like a child at someone who died several thousand years ago. 

Died. He'd died. 

Death didn't seem like the right word, strangely. Gone. He was gone. The wind had carried him away, ripped him into pieces, and now there was nothing left of him but inaccurate textbook descriptions, a grieving god, and flowers that little kids would pick and give to their mothers on good summer days, or slowly pick the petals off one by one, playing schoolyard games and teasing one another. 

It's what he would have wanted. 

Apollo knew him very, very well. It is one hundred percent what he would have wanted, and Apollo wouldn't have it any other way. 

So why did it still hurt so much? 

His phone shut off with a click. 

**Author's Note:**

> only rated this mature because of obvious reasons (death, drinking, like one brief mention of sex)
> 
> also; song fics are cringy but he's apollo so i feel obligated to do one (:


End file.
